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Sheba doesn’t buy it. And neither do I.
* * *
At least theydon’t make me look at the body, though a picture of Tasker’s dead face is horrid enough. Sheba sits beside me and I keep a steadying hand on her. Too bad she can’t ID his scent from that picture to be sure. “I think that’s him.”
Sheriff Cutler is quickly becoming exasperated with me. “Think?”
“He’s an average-looking white guy. Sometimes they’re hard to tell apart.”
Maybe he thinks I’m joking or making a racist statement. “So you often need help telling men apart?”
“I don’t look at men’s faces very often.” I make myself small, like Charlie suggested. Helpless, innocent. “It’s hard for a woman like me to meet a man’s gaze. It’s uncomfortable for me.”
“But you got a real good look at MacNiall, right?”
“Yeah. He’s different.”
“Help me understand that, Miss Killian. How’s he different from Tasker? A man you felt threatened by, and now you can’t positively ID him to my satisfaction.”
“It’s hard to explain. I can feel Charlie enter a room before I see him, and I know it’s him by the way he feels.”
“So now you’re psychic too?”
“I didn’t say I can hear his thoughts,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “I canfeelhim. He has a certain presence, a force of will that tugs on my consciousness. Tasker didn’t have that. He was an average-looking guy who got a little mean with me. He yelled at me. He jerked on my arm like he was going to try and get me in his car. I didn’t sit down and take a moment to sketch his face. I got the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible.”
“But a guy threatens to kill anyone that hurts you and youdon’tget the hell out of Dodge?”
“He was protecting me. I didn’t think he’d actuallydoit.”
“Help me understand why a guy who puts bruises on his girlfriend would also protect you,” Daniels says.
I glance at him, sitting on the corner of his boss’s desk, trying again to sense any wrongness from him. He seems different. Almost judgmental or less understanding, but not dangerous. Did Rusk get to him? Sway his opinion of me?
Or maybe he did a little digging into my past and didn’t like what he learned.
I could imagine how that went. No one ever called the police on me, to my knowledge, but I did end up in the hospital a few days when they first brought me home. If he called my parents, or Sam, and asked for some details, they probably would have told him the whole sordid story. About how I hooked up with a guy online, lived as his slave, and then almost attempted suicide when he broke up with me. How I was so loaded up on medications for a year that I could barely remember my own name.
Mental illness has an awful stigma, even in our so-called civilized world.
I refuse to let that old shadow cling to me any longer. I came through that awful history and survived. I survived losing Charlie. And I would survive whatever they threw at me now, waiting for Charlie to finish his contract.Fuck’em. Fuck’em all.
“He’s my Master.” I say softly without dropping my eyes. I won’t show shame. Not about this. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
Cutler sits up straighter with a frown. “No, I don’t.”
“He’s my Master. I’m his slave. On top of that, I’m a masochist. He’s a sadist, arguably the meanest, most talented sadist I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And it’s all one hundred percent consensual.”
The two cops look at each other. Cutler doesn’t get it, but Daniels does, and he’s blushing. It strikes me so funny that I laugh out loud.
“Yeah, that’s right. I get off on pain. He hurts me during sex, and I love it. I scream all the louder. The more bruises, the better. I can take any punishment he dishes out and beg him for more and absolutely mean it. I’ll love it. Whatever he decides to do.”
“So let me get this straight. MacNiall hurt you, often, and you enjoyed it, but you were scared of Tasker even though all he did was grab your arm?”
I’m so close to saying fuck it all and walking out. I don’t owe them an explanation. I’m not under arrest. They aren’t my judge and jury. I cooperated to the point I’ll probably be sick later when I realize how much I’ve told them about Charlie.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right.” I stand up and give them both a steady, level glare. “Am I done here?”
“If you hear anything from MacNiall, we need to know immediately.” Cutler stands, sharing a reluctant look with his deputy. They don’t want me to leave. I don’t care much. “He’s wanted for questioning in this murder.”
